Prepare the Harvest
by LikeCrimsonBloodshed
Summary: Before the events of "Mass Effect," before Commander Shepard's legacy, before the Reapers arrived, there was a Turian named Daxon Vahan, soon to become the protege of a Spectre named Saren Arterius.
1. Chapter 1

"Frightened Plea: Please remove him. He won't leave me alone and he keeps threatening to throw peanuts at me."

"That'ssss 'cuz you belong in a zoo! Whoooo let you out of yer cage?!"

And to think, Daxon Vahan thought this was going to be a good day.

The burgundy-skinned Turian officer absently ran a free three-fingered hand across his fringe. The other was clutching a datapad with which he was gathering the statements from the Elcor and the human.

For all intents and purposes, it was a beautiful day. The artificial sunlight was shining brightly in the Citadel Presidium. The ceiling was a perennial display of a light blue sky peppered with fluffy white clouds. The "sun's" light danced along the massive white walls and beams of the station. It glimmered off the surfaces of the ponds below and shone on Daxon's blue-and-black standard-issue light armor.

But this beautiful day was going to be the longest of Daxon's life if he didn't find a solution to this altercation inside the new few minutes. The last thing he and the Citadel Security Services Enforcement Division needed was a fight between an Elcor and a human. The Elcor were so few on the Citadel and human beings were such newcomers to the galactic scene. Right now, politics ruled the halls of the Citadel with so many changes on the horizon. All Daxon needed was one member of the damn press to show up and this would be blown sky-high across the airwaves.

His job would be blown to pieces with it.

"Alright, the both of you just calm down," Daxon barked in a flanging voice that was a signature of his people. He tried to sound as authoritative as he could. At just 20 years old, he hated that his voice still carried a higher pitch that he believed was unbefitting to a C-Sec Enforcement Officer.

"Tell me what happened again."

The human teetered where he stood.

"Oshifer, I found thish elephant that had gotten out of the Shitadel Zoo! I made shure he washn't goin' nowhere!"

The man hiccupped and crossed his arms across his chest in a proud manner.

"Yer welcome."

If he were witnessing this situation as a bystander, Daxon would have laughed out loud. The middle-aged human man was clearly drunk off his squishy ass. Daxon never knew how humans put up with all that sagging flesh.

With humanity being the newborns in the galaxy, just discovered 12 years ago by the Turians, Daxon mused that this human had been all too happy to sample all of the "alien" beverages the Citadel had to offer, in excess.

Daxon had no idea what an "elephant" was but he wagered this human had never seen an Elcor before.

In his time with C-Sec, Daxon had made a point to get to know all the races he'd be encountering. Growing up on the colony of Taetrus, all he had known were his fellow Turians. Seeing so many bright and eccentric new faces on the Citadel had been overwhelming at first but he learned the ropes as he went along.

The Elcor usually kept to their embassy on the Citadel which is why Daxon found it strange to see one out in the open. In his talks with their ambassador, Daxon found the Elcor to be a very conservative race, so the sight of a loud and drunken human must be terrifying to them, to say the least.

Daxon smiled internally, wishing the Elcor weren't so shy. As giant masses of thick, gray skin standing on four muscular legs that might as well be tree trunks, any Elcor could have easily crushed the much smaller human underfoot.

Daxon shook his head. He really needed to stop wishing violence upon humans. It made him biased in his job….and it's not what his father would have wanted.

Daxon could see that the human's outburst visibly shook the Elcor. The behemoth shivered, the ocean-blue mat on the creature's back shaking with it.

"Entreating Inquiry: Officer, what is a zoo? And what are peanuts? Are they weapons?"

The Elcor was clearly feeling a level of fear not conveyed by its deep, monotone voice. Daxon supposed that was why their kind preceded every statement with a declaration of feeling.

He held up a reassuring hand to the Elcor. Peanuts, he knew. He had to keep an eye on human cuisine. Humans were levo-amino-based beings. Turians were dextro-amino-based. While the small nut was no weapon, if Daxon ate one it would kill him at worst and lay him up for a day at best.

"I promise you, they're not," Daxon told the Elcor. "I assure you you're perfectly safe where you are."

The Elcor seemed unconvinced, as least as unconvinced as its expressionless face could show. Its small, beady eyes blinked once at Daxon and the series of slits down its face which served as its mouth contracted slightly, as if the Elcor was holding its breath for a more convincing reassurance.

Daxon continued. "Did this human accost you first?"

The Elcor nodded its massive head. "Genuine Reply: Yes, he did. I was merely on my way back to my embassy when he cried out and came toward me."

The human dramatically shot his hands out at his sides in a "why not" gesture.

"How elsh was I shupposhed to get you back to the zoooooo?!"

Daxon had heard enough. As far as he was concerned, that was a declaration of intent from the human. He didn't need to do a field test on the man. The human's eyes were glazed and he couldn't hold a stable standing position for longer than ten seconds. That was all Daxon needed to see.

He typed a new series of keystrokes on his datapad, rounding out the preliminary details of a report he would undoubtedly have to compile later, and turned back to the Elcor, nodding his head.

"You're free to go, sir. Don't you worry. I'm getting this man off the streets of the Citadel so he can't hurt anyone."

The Elcor nodded again, no doubt all too happy to be clear of this madness.

"Grateful Declaration: I will gladly go. You have brought clarity to a moment that would have given even the Elders pause. You have my thanks."

With that, the great, lumbering alien began slowly turning and walking away toward the Presidium Embassies, much to the dismay of the human.

"Heyyy! Shtop him! He'sh getting away!"

In the next second, Daxon placed a firm, armored hand on the man's chest, stopping him dead in his tracks.

"He's fine. He's not the problem, sir. You are," Daxon said. "I'm going to need to see some identification."

The human crossed his arms again, making a large huffing noise and hardening his gaze on Daxon. Daxon knew enough about human biology that, judging by the man's scraggly brown stubble and the redness spreading across his eyes, this man had been enjoying his own little private party for several days now.

"Hmph! I don't gotta show you nothin'! It's 2169! I got rights!"

"You're certainly right, sir. You do have rights, the right to remain silent being one of them. I wholeheartedly suggest taking advantage of it."

Daxon's burgundy mandibles pulled tightly around his mouth. What he should do, what he wanted to do, was cold-clock the drunk and drape him over his shoulder, carrying him to a cell until he sobered up. The Turian did his best to contain his growing anger over this entire situation. He was facing hours of paperwork later this afternoon all because this human was a fan of overindulging.

Instead of the much more appealing cold-clocking option, Daxon grudgingly opted for a peaceful approach.

"What I should do is dump you in a nice cozy cell in the Wards for the day, but I was in a good mood before bumping into you. As you humans say, I woke up on the left side of the bed."

The drunk human blinked a couple times at Daxon.

"It'sh the right shide of the bed."

Daxon's mandibles twitched. He didn't show it, but inside he was chastising himself for getting the analogy wrong. Getting a humanism wrong, no less.

"I'm in the mood to give you a chance to be escorted home," Daxon continued, plowing through his faux pas. "No harm, no foul. But you have to give me an ID now or I take you down to HQ, put you in that cell and figure out who you are on our database while you make friends with your cellmates. "

The drunken human just stared straight ahead at Daxon, grinning crookedly.

"Yer just mad 'cuz we blew yer buddies to hell in the war."

It only took five seconds for the human's arms to be twisted behind his back and his hands to be cuffed.

"Yowch! What the hell're you doin'?! You can't do thish!"

Daxon roughly clasped one hand on the man's shoulder and grabbed the back of the man's head with the other, forcibly steering the human's body around to gaze at the Relay Monument, a scale reconstruction of a mass relay that stood at the center of the Presidium surrounded by grassy areas and various bridges leading across the massive station.

"You see this? The Presidium? It's called being in public. You humans understand the concept of public, right?"

The man tried to squirm but Daxon's grip proved to be like an iron vice. Daxon leaned his face in just inches from the man's ear to drive his menacing point home.

"You're intoxicated in public. I gave you a way out and you didn't take it. Now you're facing an extended stay in jail and a hefty amount of credits out of your pocket."

He roughly wheeled the man around toward the Wards this time and began marching him there.

"Let's go meet your new friends. They love new blood."

-PTH—

The iron-barred doors slammed shut and the drunken man immediately ran toward them, seizing them in both hands.

"Ish thish what getsh you off, bird-brain?!"

Becca Upton swung in her chair in her cubicle nearby the holding cell down in the Lower Wards, right in the C-Sec Academy. The human woman flipped her dark bangs out of her face and smiled coyly up at Daxon.

"You always bring home the most savory people. My Mom and Dad would love you."

Daxon scoffed under his breath at the thought. He didn't understand why humans needed to joke so much.

But Becca, he liked. Among humans, Daxon considered her an exception. She had a quick wit and a fast tongue but the skill to back it up. In her short five months with C-Sec, she had proven herself to be one of the top intelligence gatherers on the Citadel. More often than not, she was in Daxon's ear while he was on the ground, alerting him to anything happening in the Wards or in the Presidium.

He also guessed that, by human standards, she was very attractive. She had short, dark black hair cut at the shoulders, a trim waist and a shapely torso. The Turian supposed that it showed good initiative that she kept in shape while her job had her sidelined to a desk. Daxon had witnessed many a human male walk by her desk soliciting her out for one night or another. Daxon was indifferent on that matter. He was a Turian and didn't much care to look too deeply into the attraction standards for humans. Becca had no fringe, for one thing.

What Becca did have was Daxon's trust. She was an ally, a cherished one in the field. According to Daxon, that was all she needed to be to garner his respect, even if she did know how to push his buttons just right.

Another cry from the drunk interrupted his contemplation.

"Hey! I'm gonna get out of thish, hire a lawyer and bury you like we did at Shanxi!"

That made Becca pay attention. She looked back up at Daxon with a knowing look.

"Ouch. He dogged you on the war. I bet it sucked to be him after that." She offered Daxon a comforting smile.

He nodded back to her, but kept his murky green eyes locked on the drunk. The discovery of humanity 12 years ago hadn't really been the most peaceful of encounters. Turians called it the "Relay 314 Incident." For the humans, they knew it as the "First Contact War." Daxon had only been 8 years old at the time of the Incident, but it left his family torn apart in a way that Daxon would never forget.

The Turian waved a dismissive hand toward the drunk.

"I figure a 24-hour session in the cooler will get him all sobered up in time for his hearing before a judge," Daxon told Becca, making his way to the icebox in the office. "The higher-ups will decide the terms of his stay in prison and how much money he'll have to hand over."

"You're the patron saint of Elcor everywhere!" Becca called after him, smiling slyly.

"Fantastic," Daxon laughed her comment off. "Mom would be so proud."

He opened up the door of the icebox and bent over to inspect its contents. At 6'2", Daxon always seemed to be a head taller than most things.

"Alright, who drank the last dextro protein shake?!" Daxon yelled in a muffled tone with his head still in the cold air of the icebox.

Becca adopted a pouty face. "Awww, did you not leave your name on it?"

"Very funny."

Daxon shut the icebox door, resigning himself to the fact that, for now, he worked on an empty stomach.

He cracked his neck from side to side walking back to Becca. It looked like the drunk had given up his tirade and was slumped in a sitting position inside his cell with his back to them.

"Well, I guess I better get to writing that report on our drunken friend," Daxon tiredly admitted. "The sooner I can get back out on the streets, the better."

Becca was about to respond when Daxon held up a hand, hearing a beeping in his earpiece. He gestured toward it with a finger and gave her a quizzical look.

Becca shook her head. "Not me."

Daxon waited one second longer and then brought a hand up to receive the call.

"Officer Vahan here."

"Dax?! Thank the Goddess! Are you on a case right now?"

Daxon recognized the voice immediately and smiled. There were few people he permitted to call him by "Dax." Outside of his family, he entrusted that privilege to few. Even Becca was forbidden from it.

But not this voice.

"Aura!" Daxon happily exclaimed. "Please save me from paperwork! With any luck, I can pawn it off on the nearest intern."

"I need you down at customs right now, Dax. There's something here you really need to see."

The lack of counter-joking on her part concerned Daxon immediately. She would usually fire back with a quip of her own. Whatever this thing that she was talking about was, it had to be serious if the fun was taken out of her voice.

"Customs?" He asked. "Aura, that'll take me at least 20 minutes to make my way over there…."

Daxon turned toward Becca but kept the channel with Aura open.

"Which officer do we have posted near customs?" he asked Becca.

But before Becca could type a single key, Aura spoke up again in Daxon's ear, sounding a little more hushed this time.

"Please, Dax. Can you come? I just….I really need you to be here. I need someone I know and can trust to look at this."

Daxon paused for a moment, letting silence fall. His burgundy mandibles twitched once as his mind pulsed, trying to figure out what could be so urgent that she needed him and only him over at the Citadel customs checkpoints.

Whatever it was, Daxon trusted Aura. He knew she wouldn't impose this much unless she really needed him. That was all the Turian needed to know.

"On my way," he said.


	2. Chapter 2

"There is a realm of existence so far beyond your own you cannot even imagine it. I am beyond your comprehension. I am Sovereign."

-PTH-

Daxon Vahan pressed forward as fast as he could, trying to keep a brisk pace in order to get to the Citadel Docks without disturbing the general populace.

The fewer prying eyes peering at what he was doing, the better. He still had no idea what he was going to see once he got to the docks, but he trusted the information given to him enough to make the trip over to take a look.

As Daxon made his way through the Wards, proceeding to the Citadel Docks, the Turian C-Sec officer passed by throngs of civilians milling about their ways on the Citadel.

There were blue-skinned, beautiful Asari seemingly floating across the floor, or at least what some would call floating. Daxon knew it to be the exceptional level of grace with which the Asari lived their lives. As the first species to discover the Citadel since the Protheans built it, the Asari made up the largest percentage of the Citadel's population and, Daxon was sure, probably held the most power aboard the station. But it was hard to argue hard to argue with their methods. Seemingly an entirely female race, their features were soft and smooth, always perfect. They even had somewhat of a fringe, which Daxon knew was simply a cartilage-based scalp crest in place of head hair. That didn't stop him from liking what he saw, though.

There were also big-eyed, fast-talking Salarians. As much as Daxon didn't like to generalize a species, he'd never met a Salarian that didn't concern him. They were such frantic creatures. Looking like tall, thin lizards that stood on hind legs, their heads were long with a pair of horns protruding from the tops of their skulls. Their speech and movements were always so rapid, which, Daxon supposed, was what made them the perfect species to direct and oversee a lot of the trade that went on aboard the Citadel. Daxon liked to joke with his fellow officers that a pair of Salarians could have an hours-long conversation in one minute. Half the time, Daxon didn't know if he should be mistrusting of Salarians or concerned that their brains would explode if they didn't slow down.

At the opposite end of the biological spectrum, there stood the massive armored frames of the Krogan. If Salarians were considered giant lizards, then the Krogan had to be the alpha reptiles in that equation. All of them stood at more than seven feet tall with large shoulder humps. Their faces were rough and jagged with big mouths and wide-set eyes. Daxon had heard tall tales that their hides were nearly bullet-proof and that a single Krogan weighed a full ton when wearing armor. Daxon carried an acute distrust for all Krogan and wasn't ashamed of it. If their menacing looks weren't enough, the Krogan and Turians carried bad blood. Every Turian who had ever gone through military school had learned about the Krogan Rebellions nearly 1500 years ago. Ever since that war, the Krogan and Turians have never gotten along.

But Daxon mostly distrusted the Krogan because of what they stood for. Nearly all Krogan on the Citadel were either guns-for-hire or bodyguards for shady people. They stood in direct contrast to Daxon's job.

Daxon's fellow Turians rounded out the majority of the Citadel's species pool along with the humans.

As Daxon made his way through the crowd, dozens of conversation snippets washed across his ears like ocean tides, cut off almost as quickly as they began.

"...shipment's late again. You would never find this sloppiness on Sur'Kesh..."

"...she said it was her, not me, and that she didn't even know if they could meld with humans..."

"...I heard the lakes on the Presidium are filled with fish..."

"Hey! Watch where you're going!"

Daxon looked down to see that, in his haste, he had accidentally side-swiped a Volus bystander with his knee.

Oh yeah, he had forgotten about the Volus.

"My apologies, citizen," Daxon said, inclining his head apologetically down at the Volus. "I'm in a bit of a hurry."

"Oh, I'm sure you are," the short, rotund alien hissed through the breather on his pressure suit. "You can't slow down lest you be accused of not earning the credits we pay for."

Daxon just stared down at the little runt for a moment longer, his burgundy mandibles pulling in tight around his mouth. This little rat wasn't worth his time. He pressed on through the crowd.

The Volus were small and fat, round like a ball. They hailed from Irune, a planet that possessed an atmosphere that made its inhabitants unable to breathe the air anywhere else. As a result, they all wore pressure suits. Daxon had never seen what a Volus truly looked like but he didn't care to find out. What the Volus lacked in physical prowess, they made up for in being shrewd businessmen and could even give the Salarians a run for their credits. Where the Salarians were the merchants of the galaxy, the Volus were definitely the accountants. They didn't care how the numbers came out or whose blood was on the money they were getting, as long as they got it.

After what felt like an eternity, when in reality it had just been 15 minutes of walking, Daxon finally reached the main elevators that would take him down to the Docks.

The Turian pressed a finger to his earpiece.

"Becca, I'm at the elevator. Have you got me?"

"You're the cutest little red dot that ever did grace my screen."

"Oh, Spirits, Becca. Really?!"

Her soft laughter filled his ear as he sighed and shook his head. He hoped her laughing would be cut off during the descent.

-PTH-

"If everyone could please remain calm, we can all make it through this misunderstanding."

"I was supposed to be on the Presidium half an hour ago! You call this a misunderstanding?!"

Daxon sighed, keeping his arms aloft as he addressed the long lines forming at the Docks Security Checkpoint. They had to be at least two dozen people long by now, all with anger and impatience plastered on their various faces.

Daxon thought he had left this madness behind him years ago. It always seemed to come back and bite him in the rear.

The Docks always looked ironic to Daxon. With not much light flowing in from anywhere, the metal walls and floor looked dark and shady compared to the pristine whiteness of the Presidium.  
This was maybe not the best first sight a visitor to the station should be having, but Daxon wasn't on any of the beautification committees.

"I'm Officer Vahan. I'm with the Citadel Security Services Enforcement Division. I'm here to help sort out the problem and get you on your way," Daxon continued, trying to placate the lines of people. "If you'll just bear with us a few moments longer, we'll make sure you move on as quickly as possible."

No one in any line looked convinced.

Realizing that would just have to do for now, Daxon nodded once and then turned on his heel, heading straight behind the long metal desk separating the checkpoint from the docks. The workers here were frantic, double-timing to try to compensate for a temporary processing shutdown. Daxon looked from side to side, peering over heads and shoulders, looking for the source of the jam.

Then he saw the back of her head, a back of a head that he would know from a mile away. Smiling to himself, he made his way straight for her.

"You rang?" Daxon joked.

But there was no joking in the teal eyes of the Asari as she turned. Daxon saw only worry and fear, but it melted a little when the eyes turned on him.

"Dax!" Aura breathed, exhaling in relief. "I knew I could count on you."

Daxon couldn't help his smile growing wider. Customs Officer Aura Voreal and he went way back. Daxon's first-ever posting as an officer with C-Sec was right down here in these docks where Aura was working. It had been an entire year of conversations and jokes as they got to know each other. He had helped her whenever someone got a little too testy about their papers or luggage and she had bailed his carapace out with any tips or leads she found.

Once he had been promoted topside to the Presidium, Daxon's only regret was leaving Aura down here. His life just hadn't been the same without seeing and talking with Aura on a daily basis.

Daxon knew he cared deeply about her, whatever that meant.

In order to hide his obvious display of fondness, Daxon cleared his throat and gestured toward the scanner she was poised in front of.

"I've seen you go through lines like this in no time at all, Aura," he said. "What's the big hold-up?"

Worry was right back in the Asari's eyes as she gestured toward the scanner with her head. Biting her bottom lip, her next words were spoken carefully.

"Its...this. Over here. We've got some kind of...anomaly. One I've never seen before."

"Luggage?" Daxon asked.

Aura nodded and beckoned.

"Come take a look."

If Daxon had eyebrows, he knew they'd be arched quizzically at the very thought of all of this. There was an item in someone's luggage that Aura, in all her years with customs, couldn't identify?

Daxon stood beside her in front of the scanner and checked the reading himself.

"Pretty standard," Aura explained as her thin, nimble cerulean finhers punched a few keys.

"Backpack. As inconspicuous as they come. All the usual items. Toothbrush, clothes, some other toiletries."

Daxon nodded. "Nothing out of the blue."

"Until we saw this," was all Aura would say as she decisively punched one more key.

The screen now showed a murky area that was unidentifiable, but it was inside the bag.

"It looks like it's just on the side, right here," Daxon pointed. "Did you search the bag?"

Aura fixed Daxon with a look.

"How long have I been doing this job, Dax?"

Daxon nodded. "You didn't find anything?"

"Nothing," Aura hung her head. "But everytime I run the bag back through, it still shows up like this. Which got me thinking..."

Aura turned behind her, looked from left to right and then leaned in closer to Dax. He leaned in too.

"There's a bulge inside the lining of the backpack," she whispered. "I don't know what it is, but it's in the exact same place."

Clarity began dawning on Daxon.

"So whetever's being carried in this bag might not be the most legal of carry-ons," he concluded. "Where's the bigshot who brought this bag in?"

Aura nodded at someone behind Daxon.

"A human," she said. "He brought it here about an hour ago."

Daxon turned around and, sure enough, there was a human man cordoned off from the rest of the lines. Another customs officer was speaking with him.

There was a black backpack on the counter between them.

"I'm on it," Daxon said without turning back to look at Aura. He strode forward and tapped the customs officer on the shoulder.

The Salarian stopped mid-sentence and turned around. Once his huge, black iris-less eyes saw Daxon's officer armor, he immediately stepped aside and busied himself with some other task.

Daxon faced the man, placing both his armored hands on the edge of the counter.

"Sir, my name is Officer Vahan, I'm with-"

"I know," the man interrupted. "You already told us that."

Daxon fixed his eyes on the human in front of him. He was a kid. He couldn't have been more than a few years younger than the Turian.

It was his appearance that set Daxon off.

Dissheveled brown hair, grungy white T-shirt and faded blue jeans, it was a very "colony kid" look.

But his behavior was off. He kept his arms together, wrapped around the front of his chest. The kid also refused to look Daxon in the eye. His eyes were always on the ground, but darting left to right pretty frequently. Daxon also thought he saw the kid shiver a little from time to time.

Daxon was trained to see what someone's behavior meant and right now it looked like the kid might be going through withdrawal right now.

Drugs. That's what was in his bag. Daxon was sure of it but he couldn't prove it yet.

"I'm going to ask you a few questions," Daxon continued.

The kid said nothing.

"First of all, I'm going to need to see some-"

"That Salarian already has my ID," the kid interrupted again, but he wasn't done there. "We already went over this. I'm from Amaterasu here to see my family. Everything else you can pull up on my file. I'm not carrying anything illegal. What else do you need to know?!"

That entire tirade was spoken as fast as a Salarian, Daxon noted. Immediately after his frustrated declaration, the kid went back to the folded-arms, silent shivering routine.

"I'm going to need to take your bag for a moment," Daxon said. He wasn't going to fiddle around with the kid anymore. He didn't need to know his name. He didn't need to know where he came up with that bullshit story. All he needed to know was what was in this bag.

Panic shot across the kid's face.

"No! You can't do that!"

"I have suspicion that you might be carrying something illegal," Daxon calmly stated. "That warrants at least a search on my part. If nothing turns up, it will be returned to you and you can go on your way."

Daxon picked up the backpack. That seemed to visibly disturb the kid. He started shaking his head vigorously from side to side.

"No, no, no, no...no, no, no...no..."

He started blinking furiously again and again. Daxon observed this and immediately his guard went up. He would need to keep a close eye on this kid during his search.

"Stay where you are," Daxon told the kid. "Calm yourself. I'll be back in one moment."

Daxon carried the backpack by its strap behind the counter and back toward Aura, holding it up as he approached her.

"Let's get another look at this thing."

But Aura's eyes shot open in terror, pointing back behind him.

"Dax! Look!"

Daxon turned in time to see the kid turn away. He heard a snorting noise. When the kid turned back around, a thin trail of red, shimmering dust was left running down from his right nostril.

What horrified Daxon was the small field of dark energy beginning to swirl around the kid's fist.

Red Sand.

Biotics.

The kid's eyes were alight with blazing anger now, anger fixed squarely on Daxon now and, subsequently, Aura behind him.

The kid brought his glowing right fist back as if he was going to hurl the stuff straight at them.

Daxon only had time to turn and latch himself onto Aura, enveloping her smaller body in his before a force like a tidal wave slammed into his back, sending the both of them flying through the air and heads-first into the machinery.

Stars exploded in front of Daxon's eyes. Showers of sparks rained down around him as they landed hard on the metal floor.

Screams exploded through the air. People ran in all directions to get away from the kid who, thirty seconds ago, was a normal if not unstable human teenager.

Now, he was a crazed drug addict who could temporarily generate his own mass effect fields.

Daxon's Kessler pistol was out and pointing at the kid as he shakily stood back up, the world spinning all around him.

"Get down on the ground!" Daxon screamed. "On the ground! Now!"

Daxon's vision was blurred from the shock of the fall. He could barely see the kid outside of his outline. Daxon didn't know if he could get a clear shot or not. He could end up accidentally shooting a civilian.

Daxon felt another lash of biotic energy smack against his front, knocking the pistol from his hand and straight into his face.

Metal gun butt met Turian flesh, smashing against Daxon's nose. Pain seared across his face.

"Arrggh!"

Now he was in incredible pain and had no weapon. But he was angry now. Daxon looked straight ahead, made out an outline, and in his intense anger charged blindly straight for it.


	3. Chapter 3

"We impose order on the chaos of organic evolution. You exist because we allow it, and you will end because we demand it" -Sovereign

Daxon Vahan had never been a particularly religious Turian, but as a child he had always sat enraptures before his mother as she told him stories about the Spirits. The Spirits, as his mother told it, were everywhere all at once. They surrounded people, cities, even plants. They were all around them and emobdied the best characteristics of them. Even though you would never see the Spirits, they were always there. If you called out to them, there was a chance they would give you the strength or courage you needed.

Daxon had abandoned any thoughts about the spirits long ago as he stretched into his adulthood. Today, however, as he sprinted through the swirling haze his vision had now become upon impact with the crazed biotic's power, Daxon found himself uttering his first prayer in years.

_Please, Spirits, let me get him._

That prayer screamed over and over in his head with each pounding step he ran.

_Let me get him._  
_Let me get him._  
_Let me get him._  
_Let me get him._

The prayers were brutally interrupted as Daxon slammed head-first into a mass of clothes and the body underneath them. His neck whiplashed as he and the attacking addict smashed into the cold, metal ground. In the next instant, Daxon's right armored hand was pressing into the teen's jugular. With his left hand, Daxon hailed headquarters, trying to form coherent words through the blood still streaming from his nose, which he was certain was now broken.

"Bekah!" He splurted. "Ah needhedh backh-uhp too minutsh agoh!"

"I called them five minutes ago. They should be nearly there, Dax!"

"Dohn't cahll me that!"

Daxon shot that arm down, pressing it onto the teen's throat as well in a choking grip. The kid wouldn't be able to use his biotic abilities if his brain wasn't able to access enough oxygen. The teen tried bridging but Daxon dug his hard knees into the kid's stomach and legs, pinning him. The kid's hands instinctively flew to Daxon's wrist, trying to pull them off. The burgundy-skinned Turian leaned his body down over his quarry, his head mere inches from the human attacker's.

"Not so tough now are you, you waste of skin!" Daxon's words carried acid-etched menace.

"I'm not letting you hurt anyone else! You hear me?!"

The pull Daxon's wrists was weakening. The teen's face was turning blue. BUt Daxon did not relinquish his grip. The outside world around him had turned to muffled sounds, unintelligible to his ears. He kept his eyes focused down on the kid's face. Nothing else mattered in the world but to apprehend the suspect. This was a blood rage that Daxon had never felt. He wasn't even thinking about letting his grip up. He wasn't even sure he wanted to. This impudent little snot had threatened the lives of innocents, not to mention Aura.

He was going to pay.

Daxon felt hands grabbing at both of his shoulders, trying to pull him back. The Turian reared his body forward, holding fast against their grip. He would not be denied his revenge against this drug-induced delinquet.

The last thing Daxon saw before everything went black was what looked like a pistol swinging straight for his face.

-PTH-

The world was an endless abyss. Daxon couldn't tell which direction was up or down, left or right. Was he dead? He didn't think he was dead. He could still feel, somewhat. There wasn't any feeling in his extremities. Not yet, anyway. It was just sort of an expectant kind of feeling in his gut. It was almost as if he was coming back from something and it was time to do something else.

Like waking up.

As if on cue, a thin line of blinding white light cracked across the darkness. It's pure light seeped through, causing the crack to spread wider and wider until Daxon realized that what he was seeing were his eyes opening.

A smooth, glossy white ceiling greeted Daxon's vision. A few blinks cleared the last of the haze away. A voice rang out to his right.

"Well now. Welcome back. I was wondering how long you'd keep me waiting."

Daxon's head immediately felt like it was stabbed with a dull spoon at the sound of the voice. It sounded like thunder. How hazy was his head currently? The burgundy-skinned Turian slowly turned his headwhere he lay, spotting another Turian and then immediately sitting stock upright in hia hospital bed.

"Caah...Caahptahn Paalihn! Sihr!"

Daxon immediately shook his head. Why was he sounding like this nostrils were stuffed to the brim? He brought a hand up to his face a felt a hard mass of plastic and bandages. The older Turian chuckled and held up a hand.

"That would be your nose, Daxon. It's broken in two different places."

Daxon watched as Captain Venari Pallin set the datapad he had been reading down on an end table beside him. Pallin's black and white mandibles twitched as he steepled his long, curved fingers in front of his face, leaning his elbows onto his knees.

"You mind telling me how that happened?" Pallin asked.

Daxon looked away, down at his legscurrently hidden under the soft, pink bed sheets. Why did they have to be pink? Daxon shook his head once again but the cloudiness in his brain persisted. He tried speaking slowly so his words wouldn't be as muttled by the bandages. The last thing he wanted to do was sound like a blithering idio in front of his boss.

"The biotic, sir," Daxon explained simply. "Lashed out with his...force...and sent my gun straight into my face."

Pallin gave an agreeable grunt. "And I suppose the rather...unorthodox way Harkin got you off that human kid didn't help thing either."

This statement made Daxon's dead snap back toward his superior officer.

"Harkin?! That rookie pistol-whipped me?!"

Daxon's manidbles flared. He was indignant. He didn't even know Officer James Harkin was even working that close to Customs today. If Daxon had any preference, he would have asked Becca to send any officers but him. Daxon didn't like Harkin in the least bit. As one of the first crop of humans to be admitted as C-Sec officers, HArkin had the arrogance that came with such a privilege. He was "special" and he knew it too. Daxon called it dumb luck, the product of a political move thanks to humanity's rise in the galaxy. Harkin had a big mouth and a hot temper with little respect for the rules or any authority. Daxon imagined he would have been all too happy to pull a sucker punch on a Turian.

Pallin crossed his arms. "I'll be the first to tell you that I don't like Harkin's methods concerning anything, but after hearing what happened from him, I've given him a pass this time. There was little else he could have done. If he hadn't acted, you would have killed a valuable lead."

Daxon's burning rage quickly turned to simmering shame as his forest green eyes returned to the pink bed sheets. Pallin didn't let up.

"What the hell happened back there, Daxon?"

Daxon thought for a few moments, not sure whether or not he could come up with a good enough excuse for why he acted that way. Honestly, a lot of it was a blur to him still. He certainly didn't remember anything that happened after Harkin cold-clocked him, but the events even before that, after he had landed on top of the kid, had grown fuzzy.

"I...I can't adequately explain what happened, sir," Daxon sheepishly began, a large lump forming in his throat. "I accept whatever punishment I have earned."

Pallin said nothing for a few torturous minutes. He then cleared his throat.

"I can probably explain it for you, then," he began. "You were in a frenzy. Eyewitnessed reported you took a strong biotic push to the back that sent you straight into some hard machinery. That coupled with your own gun smashing into your face would send anyone into a feral state. Despite your years of experience with us, Daxon, you've never been undr duress like you were today."

Before Daxon could say anything, Pallin quickly went on. "I say that because you've been one of my most dependable officers. Like Harkin, I'm giving you one pass, Daxon. Don't let it happen again."

A mixed wave of guilt and relief swept over Daxon. He found himself exhaling a breath he didn't even know he had been holding. He could hardly believe Pallin, a Turian officer who had practically written the book on law enforcement, was giving him a pass. Still, Pallin wasn't done.

"Now that the official reprimanding is done, it's time you got some well-deserved credit," Pallin said. "Your quick actions saved lives today, Daxon. We don't have a whole lot of information on the bioic effects of Red Sand on humans. The abilities they gain under its influence can be raw, powerful, deadly. If you hadn't apprehended that addict the way you had, we'd be reporting casualties instead of injuries."

This made Daxon's mandibles pull in tight acround his face. "How many injuries?" Daxon asked.

Pallin picked up his datapad again, peering down at the report. "Four, all to officers, including yourself and Officer Voreal."

Daxon's chest tightened. "How is Au-...Officer Voreal doing?" His face flushed.

Pallin chuckled again. "Don't worry, Daxon. She took a fully-armored Turian to the chest. She's got some pretty badly bruised ribs, but that's all. They're patching her up for that now as we speak."

There was another sigh of relief out of the burgundy-skinned Turian. "Thank you, sir," Daxon breathed, but Pallin was standing up to go.

"Sorry to cut my visit short," he began, crossing over to the foot of Daxon's bed, folding his arms behind his back. "I'm proud of you, Daxon. I'd like more than anything to tell you to begin your well-earned medical leave, effective immediately, but the next 24 hours are going to be crucial if we're going to find out who that addict was smuggling for. You've been given the discharge order. I'm giving you one hour to report back to HQ."

Daxon didn't hesitate. He threw the blasted pink sheets off of his legs and started sliding off the bed, his bare feet making contact with the cold floor.

"Then let me come with you, sir, I can go now," Daxon said.

Pallin held out a hand. "At ease, Daxon. Your little duster's not going anywhere anytime soon. Turns out you very nearly crushed his larynx. We had to pry him out of the hospital's hands before he came back to us. He's not even done being processed yet."

Pallin turned on his heel and headed for the door, stopping before he left. He turned back to Daxon.

"I gave you an hour so you can pay a small visit to Miss Voreal. I'm sure she'd enjoy seeing that you're alright."

With that last statement, Pallin was gone.


	4. Chapter 4

"We are eternal. The pinnacle of evolution and existence. Before us, you are nothing." -Sovereign

Aura Voreal let out a soft sigh as she lay in her hospital bed. Her smooth, slender blue fingers were anxiously fiddling with the pink bed sheets, a color she found to be delightful and comforting. She always enjoyed the sight of bright colors, perhaps because she worked in a place that more often than not looked dank and dreary. She bit her bottom lip and looked to the door to her room again.

The reason she was so nervouse was because she had asked the human nurse currently looking after her to inquire about a different patient. She was hoping the nurse would be able to tell her something about Dax's condition. She had been so worried about him since this afternoon. When she had first called him down to Customs to check this guy out, there was never any notion in her mind that it would turn into that disaster. The last clear image she remembered from the attack was the flare of the addict's biotics pulsating around his hand, looking like flowing blue flames. Then she had felt Daxon grab her and the both of them were flying through the air.

The wind was knocked out of her when they hit the ground. All she remembered after that were a series of broken images, like a sequence of blurry photographs taken right after another.

Daxon's face inches from hers, his brilliant green eyes filled not with fear but the most intense determination she had ever seen in her more than 100 years of life.

Daxon standing alone amidst the ensuing chaos, his arm outstretched and leveling a pistol at their attacker.

The addict lashing out with his biotics again, hurling the pistol into Daxon's face.

Daxon running desperately ahead, unarmed and in a frenzy.

Her Turian savior with his hands around their attacker's throat.

After that, there had been nothing but black. She woke up in this hospital bed. The nurse told her she was taken here by a group of C-Sec officers, one of them a red-skinned Turian. Aura had known in an instant that it had been Dax. She smiled again at the thought. Dax saved her. He saved everyone at the checkpoint. He risked his life to make sure they were all safe and, Aura had to admit to herself, she was swept away by his bravery.

She had always admired him. Even when they first met two years ago, she could tell he was an honest man with a genuine sense of justice and integrity. At first she found it sickly naiive, but he brought her around as they got to know each other working together. His actions lined up with his words and she learned quickly how much she could trust him and lean on him. It had been why she called him instead of anyone else to investigate the addict's doings.

Aura, like all Asari, possessed the ability to see others in a different light than any other species could. A being's thoughts and emotions were nearly transparent to her kind, almost like they radiated off the body like energy. Asari came to call these energies parts of a being's "drift." Someone's drift could be clouded and murky if they were feeling depressed or incredibly stressed and troubled. Then again, their drifts could be brightly shining, someties even sparkling if they were happy or joyous. Daxon's drift always surprised Aura. His drft was consistently clear and free from obstruction. On occasion, though, Aura would be able to detect a hint of haziness underneath it all. That hinted to her that Daxon was mostly always true to himself and showed that to others, but he was also hiding some kind of hurt inside him that he wasn't willing to share with others.

He would always stop by her station every day when he worked the docks years ago. As their talks grew longer and his visits grew more frequent, her mind finally caught up to what her heart had been telling her. She was developing feelings for Dax. She would find herself longing for him to visit her again, wanting to find him when he was gone, desiring to hear his voice or see his eyes whenever her spirits dropped. When Daxon was promoted to the Presidium, she plastered on a smile and gave him a sincere congratulations, but that remained one of the saddest days of her life. She was deprived of his daily visits and back then she feared they would lose touch. He kept visiting, though, and even called her from time to time. It made her heart flare with affection to see that he refused to forget about her, even though she always kept her feelings hidden from him.

Daxon was a man of his word, of duty, of honor and loyalty, all characteristics that Aura admired. She supposed her affinity toward him may even stem from her very genetics. After all, her father was a Turian.

The sound of the door opening made her jump slightly, taking her out of her memories. It was the nurse. She was poking her head in to give an update.

"I haven't been able to find anything out yet, dear, but I'm looking up his room number and trying to hunt down his physician. It shouldn't be too long now."

Aura sighed and nodded toward her. "Thank you very much. Please, I'd appreciate anything you can tell me."

It was the nurse's turn to nod as she disappeared once again, closing the door behind her and leaving Aura to her thoughts once again.

What Aura and Daxon both had in common was that they both lost fathers at a young age to the Relay 314 Incident. Though Aura's father was a Turian, she resembled nothing of the species. That's not how Asari reproduction worked. If it worked like that, Aura shuddered at the thought of what an Asari/Krogan child would look like, as rare as such a pairing was. Aura looked like every other Asari, in a sense. There were two pesky groups of purple-ish freckles on her face that she hated. She didn't know if that had anything to do with her lineage, but every day as she looked in the mirror she considered having them removed. The only thing staying her hand was the fact that Dax said he thought they were cute one day. So the freckles stayed.

Aura's teal eyes fixated on a certain point on the white, smooth wall in front of her as she thought. She retained the similar look and body of the Asari but she embodied certain characteristics of a Turian. That's how the entire process worked. When one Asari melds with a partner, it is an experience unlike any other. For a time, the two share their very nervous systems, becoming one. So, while no physical resemblance is passed on to the offspring, the best qualities of the mate can be. Aura supposed that was where her love for duty and service came from. It was probably the reason she wanted to go into law enforcement. Aura had never been extreme enough to desire to be a huntress or justicar or commando. A security officer suited her just fine. To make it all the way up to working security for the Citadel of all place was nothing to snuff at.

She just wished she remembered more of her father.

Aura had to stop thinking and clear her throat. All these thoughts of melding brought her mind back to Daxon and made her cheeks flush and her throat tighten at the very thought. A warmth was also beginning to spread across her lower area, but a soft knock at the door forbade her from addressing it at the moment. She quickly adjusted the sheets on her bed and smoothed out her hospital gown before turning to the door.

"Come in!" Aura breathily called out.

Sure enough, in walked the face she had been wanting to look upon all day. But it didn't go nearly as planned. In fact, she burst out with a snicker, pointing at his head.

"Wha-...what is that on your face, Dax?" She laughed again before clapping a hand over her mouth, sending apologetic looks to him. The burgundy-skinned Turian waved it off, laughing himself.

"That biotic did his best trying to make me ugly. He succeeded, for now..."

Daxon pulled over a chair by her bedside, turning it around so that he rested his arms on the top of its back, looking at her.

"But you know, I hear girls like men with scars. What do you think?"

He started dramatically turning his head left to right, modeling the mass of bandages around his nose. This drew another laugh from Aura and she playfully pushed his shoulder.

"Don't get ahead of yourself, mister! Buy me dinner first!"

That drew a bit of an uncomfortable silence between them. Aura tentatively retracted her hand and looked down at her sheets, resuming her fiddling. Daxon only stared at the way her fingers worked. He chuckled out loud. Aura could be one of the most confident officers he had ever known but nerves were universal to every species. Hers he found adorable.

He cleared his throat to try to break the awkwardness. "So...yeah...about that. I suppose our...plans...for tonight got a bit delayed, huh?"

Aura softly closed her eyes and nodded once. Tonight was supposed to be the night she had been looking forward to for weeks now. Daxon had asked her to dinner and it had been reserved for tonight. That was, at least, until Biotic Boy worked his magic on their schedule.

Daxon once again tore her away from her thoughts. "How are you doing, Aura? Captain Pallin told me you were banged up. How bad is it?"

Aura turned to look up into concerned but intense forest-green eyes. A smile instantly crossed her face and she found herself reaching out a hand to rest on his firm, strong arm.

"I'm OK, Dax, thanks to you. They've wrapped up my waist pretty good and it only hurts when I move...so...if I could ever stop doing that, that'd be great, right?" Now they both laughed a little louder and the effort made Aura wince and draw her hand back to her side. Daxon's three-fingered hand was there in one instant as well. Their eyes met and held for a brief second before Aura shakily continued.

"And...anyway...that shouldn't be a problem," she said. "Pallin came to visit me too. He told me I have a few weeks of medical leave to try and recover. I fought him on it...I want to get back to work...but you know how the captain is."

"I do," Daxon agreed, though Pallin surprised him with the free pass he had given him today. Daxon still wasn't sure where that had come from but that didn't stop him from being grateful in the least bit.

"I wish my leave started right now, too, but Pallin needs me back at HQ," Daxon went on. "I wanted to see you before I left."

This made Aura's eyes glisten with concern. Daxon was going back to work?! In his state? After everything that happened?

"Why?!" she found herself blurting out. She quickly stopped and adopted a softer tone. "Are they making you go back to debrief or something? Follow-up?"

Daxon could only offer a shrug. "I have no idea. But they said they have that lunatic locked up now." Daxon's red mandibles pulled in as a bit of his rage started bubbling up again. "I want another shot at the little whelp."

Aura's hand was now encircling his, forcing him to lock his gaze with hers. Her teal eyes were unblinking, staring straight into his own.

"Dax...listen to me," she began, her voice even but determined. "When you were fighting him, I caught brief glances of your drift. It was the darkest I had ever seen it..."

She paused, as if to stop herself from saying something too intimate. Her next words were almost like a whisper.

"You were filled with such pain...I could practically feel it myself!" She explained. "Don't do this to yourself again. You've been through so much already. Can't someone else handle this?"

Daxon let their hand-holding continue. He wanted it to. He wanted so badly to stay with her the rest of the day...and maybe even the rest of the night, if she'd let him. She was safe now. Daxon knew it. His mind could rest on that now. The investigation, however, was still up in the air. That crazed addict was smuggling for someone and there was a good chance they could find out who if they worked quickly. Daxon wanted in on that. This case had become rather personal to him. He knew he was walking a thin line with Pallin for the moment after his little display back at the the checkpoint, but if he could keep his emotions in check and show the captain what he was truly made of, Daxon could have a chance to ruin the plans of those who had ruined his date.

"I have to go," Daxon told Aura, bringing his other hand to rest on top of theirs. "I have to see this through, Aura. For you and for me. If I don't, I'll regret not doing my part to make sure this bastard burns."

At the sight of Aura's looking down and away from him, no doubt in disappointment, Daxon spoke again.

"It won't be long, I promise," he supplicated, though he had no idea how long it could really be. "And when it's all done, I'll come back to visit you. We'll talk about what you want to do on our date...shall we say...this weekend? Do you think you'll be discharged by then?"

A smiled returned to Aura, and she brought her eyes back up to his face. At least their date was still on, a fact that in and of itself sent her flying through the air. Figuratively.

"Of course I will be," she said playfully to him. "No hospital can keep me away from such an occasion!"

But she lost her joking tone as she leaned her head closer to his. "Please be careful, Dax. Come back to me in one piece. If you don't show up for our date, I'll personally kill you myself...and I'm much better at biotics than he is."

She winked at him and they laughed once again. After a few more minutes of silence, Daxon gently pulled his hand away and got up from the chair, returning it to its resting place against the wall. He turned back to her in the doorway.

"This weekend it is," He said smoothly.

"And do something about that nose, will you?" Aura called out. "Dress it in a necktie or something."

Daxon laughed again. "I'll work on that. Get well soon, Aura."

"You too."

The burgundy-skinned Turian nodded resolutely and then was gone, leaving Aura to stare at her bed sheets again. While she was positively elated at the rescheduling of their date, her worry over the man she would be spending it with just wouldn't leave her. She knew he was in no condition to involve himself with the case any longer, physically or emotionally. She sighed in her bed, ruefully smiling as she shook her head.

That was just like a Turian, placing duty before self. Why did she have to love them so damn much?

-PTH-

25-year-old Becca Upton sat at her desk near The Cage at C-Sec Headquarters down in the Lower Wards, staring at an empty holding cell. She always wondered why her desk had to be near a cell in the first place. She knew she was a data-monkey and all, but better accommodations wouldn't be uncalled for. Maybe she'd try slipping in a memo about it at the next status meeting? Or, she smiled slyly as she thought to herself, maybe she could just hack the C-Sec records and order it herself?

She snickered into her steaming cup of coffee. That would be the quickest ticket to unemployment, for sure.

She yawned and looked at the small clock on her terminal. It was well past midnight. This was going to be a late night for all of them with this case. Pallin had told her that she could go home but she had insisted. She wanted to be here when Dax came back. She shook her head and took a sip as she spun slowly in her office chair. A beeping at her terminal made the spinning stop and she swiftly donned her headset again.

"Daxon? Is that you?"

::Yeah, Becca, it's me. I'm on my way down.::

Becca hastily typed in a quick message to Pallin, alerting him that Daxon was coming. Her abundant chest within her navy-blue C-Sec form-fitting uniform leaned over her keyboard as she typed the message out, sending it off in less than a minute.

In two more minutes, Daxon was back down on her level again. He looked to The Cage, noting it was now devoid of their friendly neighborhood drunk from what felt like a year ago now. In fact, it was devoid of anyone.

Becca practically jumped from her desk, smiling widely. "Dax! You're alright! Thank God!"

"Don't call me that, Becca," Daxon waved her off, but nodded appreciatively. "And don't worry about me. I'll be OK."

Becca frowned at him. "Sure, Rudolph. That nose of yours just screams OK."

Daxon frowned. "Rudolph?"

Becca chuckled, her face flushing as she waved him off. "Nothing. Never mind. Call it a human expression."

Daxon didn't spare another moment. "Thanks again for sending that back-up...although...next time...would you mind making sure Harkin's not on the list?"

Becca's eyes widened with concern, gesturing toward her own nose. "Did...he...?"

"He certainly didn't help things," Daxon explained. "And I intend to pay him back in kind the next time I see him."

Becca shot him a shining smile again, shaking her head. "You be careful now. You're already burning the midnight oil. Don't need any late night C-Sec-on-C-Sec action putting you in The Cage."

She held up her mug. "Coffee? It might pick up your spirits."

"No, thanks," Daxon refused. "Can't stand the stuff and I don't know how you humans do."

"Very, very easily," Becca crooned as she took another sip. Mmmmm, hazelnut.

"So is Pallin around?" Daxon asked.

"Right behind you, Officer Vahan," a voice echoed from behind and both Daxon and Becca immediately stood a little straighter. Daxon turned to see Pallin standing near an open door leading off into an area of C-Sec that Daxon didn't think he had ever seen before.

"Like I said, I hate doing this to you, Daxon, but we don't have a whole lot of options here," Pallin said. "That addict of yours is in Interrogation. I thought maybe you'd want to ask him a few questions."

Daxon's eyes went wide and he was stunned silent for a few moments. Interrogation? Him? He was in Enforcement. This was the stuff thet Investigation handled. He had never interrogated any suspects before. In his two years with C-Sec, he hadn't really needed to. This was the biggest case to hit C-Sec in a while.

"Erm... of course! I mean...yes...Captain." Daxon practically spluttered. He hung his head. Why was he acting like such a child all of a sudden?

Pallin only nodded. "Then get in there, officer, and see what you can dig up. We only have so much time."

Daxon crossed through the doorway. Just as Pallin was about to disappear, he pointed to Becca and then at her terminal.

Becca arched a dark eyebrow and then checked the screen, seeing a new message from Pallin. After her eyes scanned over it for a moment, they shot open and she turned back, only to find Pallin gone. Becca broke into a big smile and deftly leaped over her entire desk, running out of the room.


End file.
